


open book

by architecture_in_f1ll0ry



Series: breaking point [2]
Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, bathrooms will suffice but beds are better, if korra thought about her ex in bed no she didn't, there is so much fluff here I just need you to be prepared, this isn't quite first time but it also is, timebending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-04
Updated: 2020-07-04
Packaged: 2021-03-04 21:07:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25072846
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/architecture_in_f1ll0ry/pseuds/architecture_in_f1ll0ry
Summary: It's a little like learning how to read all over again. Korra can be impatient.
Relationships: Korra/Kuvira (Avatar)
Series: breaking point [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1815853
Comments: 17
Kudos: 132





	open book

**Author's Note:**

> or, in which korra considers adding "kuvira's kept woman" to her list of #lifegoals
> 
> again: taking cues from varrick and cherrypicking what canon events I'd like to keep and what can be discarded.
> 
> ~
> 
> because I just have to be Like That, here is my playlist for this series:
> 
> wildfire - sbtrkt, little dragon  
> beggin for thread - banks  
> warm water (snakehips remix) - banks, snakehips  
> take me apart - kelela  
> rewind - kelela  
> human - sevdaliza  
> warm water - banks  
> drunk in love (feat. jay-z) - beyoncé  
> girl (feat. kaytranada) - the internet, kaytranada  
> broken clocks - sza  
> the wheel - sohn  
> ache - fka twigs  
> reading in bed - emily haines & the soft skeleton  
> infinity - the xx  
> brain - banks  
> special affair - the internet  
> two weeks - fka twigs  
> how's that - fka twigs  
> girlfriend - nao  
> can I see it - lion babe, bilal  
> get to know ya - nao, kaytranada  
> on the sly - metric  
> bad blood - nao  
> desperado - rihanna  
> treat me like fire - lion babe  
> sound of rain - solange  
> pussy is mine - miguel  
> my favorite book - stars  
> precious possession - anna wise

_AVATAR KORRA AND GENERAL KUVIRA: GREATLY UNITED AT LAST? NIGHTCLUB EYEWITNESSES SPILL SECRETS OF STEAMY BATHROOM RENDEZVOUS!_

Korra squints, then flinches at the garish headline, sliding her gaze over to a thunderous Tenzin, then steps aside, letting him into her apartment. “Uh, morning.”

“Indeed!” Tenzin strides into the airy, slightly untidy living room, brows bristling with consternation as she pushes the door closed, returns to the kitchen. He trails behind Korra and then sits, and she can feel his eyes on the back of her head as she continues preparing a pot of fresh coffee. “Korra, what on earth were you thinking?”

Korra sighs, resigning herself to this conversation, aching head pulsing in time to the warbled birdsong that drifts in from an open window. Leaning back against the counter, she gathers her shoulder length hair up into her hands, rests them loosely atop her head. Tenzin is seated straight backed in his usual stool, his expression wavering between concerned and exasperated. The newspaper lies conspicuously between them. At least no one got a real photo of them that night, it's just a grainy candid photo of the two of them at a summit in the Southern Water Tribe a year ago, zoomed in. They stand beside each other, not touching, not even looking at each other. “Well, I was drunk,” she hedges. Kuvira hadn’t taken well to the ice and cold, which Korra found every opportunity to poke fun at. Outside of anyone else’s earshot. That trip was where she learned Kuvira secretly thought she was funny, if an idiot.

“Clearly!”

“I mean, I don’t know what you want me to say. Whoever wrote that headline should be fired, by the way. Uninspired.”

Tenzin ignores that. “I want you to say you know what you’re doing.”

Korra turns away to pour two steaming cups, crosses the kitchen to set one down in front of him, forcing herself not to squirm beneath his gaze, discerning and fatherly, as always. “I...know what I’m doing.” 

Casting his eyes heavenward, Tenzin sighs, wrapping his hands around his mug. “You’ve always been an awful liar.”

“Why do people keep saying things like that?” Korra pouts, affronted. The first sip is scalding and it splits a direct line of clarity through the morning fog. As scandals go, she has to think this one is pretty mild. Hadn’t Sokka and Firelord Zuko rocked the world when they overturned Sozin’s law the way they did, however many years ago? This did not even rank, compared to that. “Besides, who cares? I mean, I know people _care,_ but they shouldn’t!”

“People shouldn’t do a lot of things,” Tenzin grumbles, brow tensed in agreement. “But they do them anyway. And you are a very public figure, as is Kuvira, so you must—”

“And this is _my_ private life, and hers,” Korra interrupts, her eyes falling down to the paper again. “Okay, well—”

“I don’t think you’re one to decry an invasion of privacy just now,” Tenzin says pointedly, and Korra huffs, shrugging a shoulder before taking another sip.

“Point taken.” 

“You’re going to receive a lot of intrusive questions and insulting requests for...detail. I want to be sure you’re prepared for that.”

“Tenzin, I’ll be fine. Seriously. It will blow over.” 

Tenzin grunts worriedly, but her words are true and he knows it. A placid silence develops, and Korra’s pressing her head against the cylinder of hot ceramic in her hands (a birthday gift from Ikki, she’d made her a set of Naga dishware), wondering if she can somehow bloodbend her hangover away (holy shit, could someone _bloodbend_ a _hangover_ away? She wishes she could ask Katara) when he speaks again. “Life is...unpredictable,” he says with great feeling, and Korra slowly lowers her mug, face tensed in wary confusion. 

“Y...es…”

“I was around your age now when _Lin_ and I met,” he continues, as if he’s making any sense at all. But Korra’s too morbidly curious to respond, afraid of spooking him. “You know the story,” he adds, waving a hand. It took Korra some time to fill in the gaps, but the way Lin sometimes bickers with him, the blood in her cheeks rising, the way he seems to be _aware_ of her in any room they’re in together—it's more obvious than they think. “I suppose sometimes I wonder what might have happened if.” He stops, levels a frank glare at Korra. “Do _not_ read into what I am saying. I love my wife.”

“You don’t have to justify yourself to me, Tenzin,” Korra reminds him, biting back a laugh. She slants a look at him, crossing her ankles, the kitchen floor refreshingly cool against her bare feet. Korra contemplates this for a second, thinking of the way Asami had cupped her face fondly in her hands and knocked their foreheads together, cool and easily affectionate as always, only minutes after they mutually agreed to break up. “Did...you have a point?”

“Not particularly.” Tenzin clears his throat, says something under his breath all snippy and Tenzin-y, like, _Kuvira_ _of_ _all_ _people_. Then he huffs a rueful laugh despite himself, shaking his head. 

“Metalbenders, am I right?” Korra ventures, a laugh in her voice, and Tenzin just looks up at her, raising his brow, mustache quivering as he takes another measured sip. 

"Quite.”

//

Korra is only vaguely aware of rehearsing what she’ll say to Kuvira when she surprises her—something witty and sexy and devastating, of course—and then she’s actually here, stepping off of the train in Zaofu, finding the community center garden Kuvira had outlined directions to in her call the day before. Slipping into the back of the crowd that’s assembled to hear the General’s address, every practiced word falls completely out of her mind. Kuvira is in her element, straight-backed and clear-eyed as she thanks the local leadership—namely, her adoptive mother—for their commitment to serving the people of Zaofu on this, the twentieth anniversary of its founding as an official Earth kingdom state. It’s part diplomacy, part apology tour, though she’s come a long way in the eyes of the people since her first public appearance following the attempted coup. Her hair is swept back into its usual neat, tucked braid, two thick, wavy tendrils left loose by her temples. The metal accents of her uniform shimmer coolly in the early evening sun, and Korra allows herself to tune out her words, just losing herself in the pleasure of admiring Kuvira: her tall, slim, and muscled frame, the way her eyes sweep the crowd imperiously beneath heavy, arched brows, her raised voice, commanding and firm. There’s no way Kuvira could have spotted her yet; Korra purposefully entered late and stuck to the back, outfitted in a tan, hooded tunic, black trousers and boots, a far cry from her usual attire. The subterfuge is the point: she doesn’t feel like being seen. The anonymity is novel and exhilarating.

A sudden burst of applause tells Korra she should leave now, before anyone is able to get a good look at her. Before slipping out, she notices the tight set of Kuvira’s mouth as she stiffly accepts a hug from Su, pulling away to pose for an endless succession of flashing photos. Korra recognizes the fake, formal smile, and her heart jolts a bit at the way her dark eyes do a brief scan of the crowd between the photographer shuffle, clearly restless and searching. For a moment she entertains the idea of making her way over and blowing her cover, simply for the look on Kuvira’s face, but thinks better of it and refrains, making a quick and inconspicuous exit. They’ve given the gossip mills quite enough recently. 

(“I’d prefer for that to remain between Avatar Korra and I,” Kuvira had responded coolly to one of the more impertinent questions at her press conference, eyes flashing at the unlucky questioner, which Korra still wishes she’d been there to witness in person. Apparently that reporter switched beats thereafter, but Korra’s not sure if Opal exaggerated that for her benefit or not.)

Through a truly impressive—if she does say so herself—feat of high stakes surveillance and airbending agility, Korra is seated on the plush loveseat in the adjoining sitting room of Kuvira’s luxury suite when the metalbender arrives, not jumping in surprise, to her credit. Her eyes only widen for a moment before she shakes her head, giving Korra a rueful glance.

“I didn’t see you earlier,” Kuvira says, waving a hand lazily behind her, ensuring the door is locked. Her voice is a bit more hoarse than usual—consequences of talking all day—which raises a few goosebumps along the back of Korra’s neck. “And it would appear I need better security.” The slanting skylights inlaid high above her heads admit generous spills of sun, gleaming against the columns of obsidian, like the one Kuvira passes now, brushing an absentminded hand across the stone. She looks at home here, in this sprawling, open space, with its sharp angles and dark accents that are softened by the numerous domed pots bearing giant green plants, vibrant whorls of abstract art displayed within massive frames adorning the walls.

“I was keeping a low profile," Korra says, watching her approach, then adopts a teasing tone. “And you should give your poor guards a break.” Korra’s nearly vibrating as she forces herself to sit still, to not launch herself at the other woman. She drinks her in from head to toe instead, and then her eyes snap back to Kuvira’s hands, the graceful curve of her fingers as she slowly pinches the ends of her gloves and drags them off, dropping them onto a side table. "Not..." she attempts, and Kuvira raises an eyebrow. Gloves. How can she make _gloves_ so hot? “Not their fault they’re no match for me.”

Kuvira rolls her eyes, then hesitates, mere steps away from Korra, her heated gaze taking in the way Korra’s reclined on the couch, outer layers and shoes kicked off, leaving only her trousers and fitted white tank top. Korra cocks her head, puzzled, and Kuvira releases a frustrated growl beneath her breath. “I can’t stay,” she begins apologetically, hovering just out of reach, as if unconvinced of how wise it would be to come any closer. “There’s another, smaller ceremony that I’m expected to attend.”

Of course. Clamping down a groan, Korra finally abandons her dignity, crooking a finger to beckon Kuvira closer anyway. She doesn’t realize she’s holding her breath until Kuvira complies warily, stopping just in front of Korra, widening her stance until her legs bracket Korra’s, who rises to sit up straight on the couch. God, Kuvira is tall. Not as tall as Asami, but not too far off. The material of her uniform trousers is smooth beneath Korra’s hands, and she hums contentedly at Kuvira’s soft exhalation, the way she sways into Korra’s possessive grip. It’s a relief to be touching Kuvira again, the past forty-eight hours some of the longest of her life; certainly long enough to begin to doubt this would ever be a repeat possibility, that they could actually be on the same page about this. Maybe it had all been a fever dream—or worse, a mistake that the tabloids’s breathless coverage had ensured would never happen again. 

But no, here is Kuvira, fingers sliding into the back of Korra’s hair as Korra tips her face up and presses it against Kuvira’s belly, moving her hands up and around her firm thighs, squeezing and caressing appreciatively. 

“So what you’re saying is, you have to go,” Korra mumbles, not a question, but she hopes Kuvira takes it as one.

Kuvira is silent, and Korra looks up, sees her eyes clouded over, lost in thought. The slight twist of her mouth is telling. “It’s Su,” she explains. “She’s arranged the whole thing, I’m expected to be there, do the whole song and dance.”

“Ah.” Korra doesn’t know all the details, but it’s been obvious nearly since they first met that there was some weird tension between Kuvira and Su, which only seems to have gotten worse in the past few years, despite the truce. She remembers the stiff way Kuvira held herself right after her speech, imagines her forcing conversation for the next few hours of phony hobnobbing, bored and uncomfortable and trapped when Korra is right here, secretly sequestered in her hotel suite and so desperate to kiss her she can barely breathe. “And if you _didn’t_ go…”

“No,” Kuvira says at once, shooting Korra a forbidding look, which is immediately undercut by an index finger circling a line of heat around Korra’s pouting lips. “I can’t skip it.” Korra parts them but Kuvira doesn’t push inside, just continues tracing the seam, then switching to her thumb, which Korra presses a kiss against. “Korra.”

“Kuvira.” Korra holds her gaze as she leans forward to take Kuvira’s thumb into her mouth, nipping at the soft flesh, soothing it with her tongue. “Fiiiine, go. But,” she swallows, watching Kuvira track the motion—”You have to kiss me first.” She feels her face turn warm as she speaks, which is fine until Kuvira notices too, her expression impish as she drags the fingertips of her other hand across the rise of Korra’s heated cheek.

“Are you _blushing,_ Avatar?”

“Shut up.” Korra's fingers close on the material of Kuvira’s jacket, tugging her downward to straddle Korra’s lap, which she does with a small huff of surprise. The position is undignified, and unseemly, and a whole of other _un_ words that Korra can see ricocheting through Kuvira’s mind, which makes the whole situation fifty-eight thousand times hotter. Korra smirks and begins to lean in, whines piteously when Kuvira stops just short of their lips connecting, grabbing her chin with not a small amount of force. There’s stern warning written all over her face, and Korra has to swallow again, pulse jumping at the way Kuvira’s green eyes darken as they bore into hers.

_“_ One kiss,” Kuvira says firmly. “One.”

“Okay, okay,” Korra sighs, tugging her closer, sealing their mouths together in a kiss that’s molten from the start; one arm tightly encircles Kuvira’s waist as the other keeps a firm grip on her back, fingers twining up her neck and into her hair as they relearn each other’s taste, barely stopping to breathe. Kuvira’s soft sighs as she angles her head and plunges deeper makes Korra’s stomach twist, and she sucks greedily on Kuvira’s tongue at the same time she rocks their bodies closer together, unable to stop herself from grabbing and squeezing at Kuvira’s ass, dragging her down at the same time she rolls her hips up, just, testing the waters. 

Kuvira gasps a forbidding laugh against her mouth, but Korra doesn’t miss the way her arms tighten around her shoulders, nor the way she goes a little bit more lax and pliant in her grip. She pulls back just enough to nip hard at Korra’s lower lip, a punishment. “That was more than one.”

Korra growls, impatient. “I lied.” She covers Kuvira’s mouth with her own before she can speak again, humming contentedly when the other woman’s lips part immediately, going hot all over. She wants to get their clothes off, she wants to feel naked skin pressed against hers, she wants—she groans as Kuvira pulls away again, chest heaving as she covers Korra’s mouth with her hand. Her cheeks are pink, her green of her eyes bleeding into fevered black, dilating fast, and the way she’s biting her lip tells Korra she’s not alone in her suffering. She pushes against Kuvira’s grip, another jolt of lust pulsing through her when she legitimately struggles, the metalbender’s frame a solid line of muscle, locked into place. Fuck, she’s strong. Korra knew this already, but never experienced it in this context.

“Stop testing me,” Kuvira says evenly, with visible effort. Korra’s eyes trail down to the buttons at her neck, thinking about the skin beneath, and Kuvira tightens the hand across her mouth, jerking it to catch Korra’s attention. Korra surrenders willingly, hair falling into her face as her head shakes. “Hey. Eyes up here.”

Korra’s heavy gaze flicks back up, raising an eyebrow in challenge. Then she licks Kuvira’s hand. Kuvira flinches, lips twitching against a smile, but she was clearly expecting it and thus doesn’t budge, making Korra groan in frustration. Then a hand twists into her hair, pulling, forcing her head back as Kuvira looms over her, the other hand still clamped firmly over her mouth. Korra’s eyes widen as she continues to be manhandled into the more submissive position, and Kuvira follows, simply holding her there for several long seconds before she leans down to speak directly into Korra’s ear.

“I said, _behave.”_

Shit. _Shit._ Korra’s eyes close as she lets out an involuntary little whimper, goosebumps rising on her neck and arms at the low, dangerous rasp, the way her tone leaves absolutely no room for argument. When she opens her eyes, Kuvira is sitting back, a pleasantly solid weight in her lap, watching Korra with calm satisfaction. She relinquishes her hold on Korra’s hair, running her fingers soothingly along her scalp before threading them through the cropped strands, and she drops her hand from Korra’s mouth as she leans in again, brushing their mouths together in something not quite a kiss, but a touch teasing enough to force a shaky breath from Korra’s lungs.

“I like you like this,” she smiles against Korra’s mouth. Korra gains just enough brainpower to huff and narrow her eyes, though she’s two seconds away from spinning away like a goddamn top if Kuvira doesn’t relent. She grounds herself with another bold grope of Kuvira’s backside, wishing she could plant her face there instead, once she’s rid her of all these pesky layers. She smirks up at Kuvira as she speaks, though her pulse is still jumping, uneven. She can still feel imprint of Kuvira's hand against her mouth.

“I bet you do, you dommy fuck.” Takes one to know one.

Kuvira just smirks, then gasps when Korra punctuates her words with a surprise smack on the rise of her ass, the sound sharp and obscene in the hushed room. Taking advantage of Kuvira’s momentary spluttering, she swiftly pulls open the top button of her jacket, meeting the challenging gaze head on.

_“Korra.”_

“Yeah I know, you have to go, so let me just—” Korra quickly separates two more buttons, pushing the collar open just enough to lean in and plant a sucking kiss at the base of her neck, feeling the slow vibration when Kuvira moans, skin hot beneath her tongue. She relishes the feeling of Kuvira’s body against hers for just a few more glorious seconds as she ensures the bruise is there to stay, then soothes the skin with a gentle lick before easing back to button her back up, glancing up to see Kuvira watching her, worrying her lower lip between her teeth.

“A souvenir?”

“Just some...insurance. In case you get lost.”

Kuvira raises an eyebrow, smooths a hand down Korra’s neck and past her collarbone, stopping just at the swell of her breast. “Property of the Avatar, is that it?” Her tone is as confident and cocky as ever, but there’s something about the way she braces her hand against Korra’s chest and the sudden tension at the corner of her mouth that tells Korra they’ve temporarily wandered past the carefree wilds of banter and into something more serious, more contained. 

Korra grins, cradling Kuvira’s blushing face and bringing her in for another kiss, this time slow, measured, tender. “Okay, you got me,” she breathes when she pulls away. “Pun intended.”

“Hmmm.” Kuvira delves in for another, squeezing Korra’s shoulders, then pulls away completely, rising to stand with a decisive air. She exhales slowly, looking Korra over, then glances outside to the swiftly setting sun, with a small, disbelieving chuckle. “I’m so late.”

“Sorry,” Korra tosses back, not even attempting a repentant tone. Her hands itch to pull Kuvira back down to her lap again. She crosses her legs instead. 

Kuvira straightens her clothes, bends to slide back into her boots. “Sure.” She glances around when she’s done, eyes alighting on Korra’s small knapsack. “What will you do? I’ll be a few hours.”

Korra sighs, stretches, not missing the way Kuvira’s sharp gaze roams her curves, the patch of skin revealed when she raises her arms. “Find some food, probably. I brought a book.” She laughs a little at Kuvira’s uncertain expression. God, she’s so cute. “I’ll be fine, I know how to stay out of sight and amuse myself. Go hurry up and do your schmoozing so you can come back to me.”

There’s a brief pause, but before she can open her mouth to make a quippy remark, retroactively lessening the naked vulnerability of the sentiment, Kuvira swoops down to press a kiss against her temple, her voice low and fond when she speaks. “Yes, Avatar.”

And then she straightens, boots swishing against the plush carpet as she leaves, the door clicking quietly shut behind her. 

//

Truth be told, as strange as it is for Korra to be totally alone in this palatial suite, it’s kind of nice too.

Solitude is both somehow an Avatar requirement and a luxury: at any given moment there is some matter that needs her urgent attention, some triumph to celebrate or failure to mourn, and in every scenario she is surrounded by people, looking to her for answers and commiseration and strength and support. She’s a bridge, she’s a rock, a savior. She’s happy to be those things, to give so much of herself for the good of humanity and of the spirit world, to fulfill this kooky, ancient destiny of hers—moment to moment, day by day. Which is what makes this day and this moment all the more sweet: tucked away from the world, freshly showered and sunken into a plush robe she’d found in a closet, reclined in a squashy armchair that faces the wall-length window, admiring the soft golden hues of the setting sun as it shimmers along the placid waters of the hotel’s private lake. 

A sudden knock puts her on high alert, and she jerks upright, airbending herself down gingerly so that her feet don’t make a sound. She was _so_ careful; there was no way someone could know she was here—could they? She drifts silently to the door, contemplates a moment before peeking through the eyeglass, then frowns at the empty hall.

She waits a full minute before cracking the door open in suspicion, concealing a palmful of fire behind her back. But the hallway is empty, save for a covered tray on the ground, which opens to reveal a small feast, prompting a low rumble from her stomach. Shooting more quick glances down either side of the hall, she brings the tray inside and kicks the door shut with her foot, deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth. Kuvira is crafty, she’s always known that. There’s plenty left over when she finishes, and she stretches out along the absurdly soft feather-light mattress, fully intending to make it the rest of the way through the careworn copy of _A Night Among Thieves_ she’d borrowed from Zhu Li’s library a few weeks ago. She'd started it once a few years ago, but lost her old copy somewhere in Asami's house. The meandering, philosophical thrust of the narrative appeals more to her now than it did back then, anyway.

She stirs some time later with the book still split open against her outstretched fingers, holding her page. She blinks, and then there's the sound of a door closing, the gentle thud of boots being kicked off. She rises to her elbows just as Kuvira’s head pokes around the double doorway, her quiet greeting getting subsumed into a wide yawn. 

“You look comfortable,” Kuvira says in response, her smile soft and amused as she steps fully into the bedroom. All of the lights are off, though the moonlight beaming down on them is bright, and Kuvira hovers for a moment, seemingly lost in thought. Korra frowns, putting her book on the side table, switching on the small lamp. The light is a dusky amber, not too bright, and Korra turns again to take in the agitated set of Kuvira's shoulders, the way her whole demeanor seems a little off.

“That bad?” 

Kuvira looks back at her, startled, pausing in the act of unbuttoning her jacket. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” Korra flounders for a moment, wondering if she’d insulted her, which she definitely didn’t mean to do. But the energy between them is completely different, that’s obvious, even if Korra is almost certain it has nothing to do with her. “Just, come here.”

Kuvira opens her mouth, seemingly to argue, but appears to think better of it, glancing at Korra curiously, almost shyly as she crosses to the bed, standing just at the edge. Korra sits up fully and swings her legs over to plant her feet on the ground, opening her thighs to tug Kuvira in between. They simply stay like that for a moment, quiet, until Korra rises to her knees on the soft mattress, resuming the unbuttoning, leaning in to bat her nose against Kuvira’s ear, her jaw, kiss her cheek. “You seem tense.” Kuvira’s eyes travel her face, unsure, but Korra doesn’t say anything further, just continues her slow work, intent on getting rid of these layers.

“It was fine. Boring. She’s just always been difficult to spend much time around, since I left home,” Kuvira rambles, then pauses. “Su.”

Korra doesn’t snort, but it’s a close thing. Kuvira seems to be in a sharing mood. “Yeah, I figured.”

“Now we’re meant to be allies, which is strange enough, but she’s still very—” She falls quiet, brows furrowed, as Korra slips the jacket from her shoulders, tosses it to a nearby chair. _“Conflicted_ is too nice a word. Consistent in her inconsistency.”

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Korra offers, hooking her fingers into Kuvira’s belt, looking up at her as she begins to unlace it. “If you don’t want to. I didn’t mean to pry.”

Kuvira smirks, letting herself be swayed by Korra’s motions at her waist, some of the tension bleeding from her back and shoulders. “Yes, you did. It’s fine.”

It’s so weird, and so wonderful, this new...thing, whatever it is, especially in moments like this, when she’s not exactly sure what to say or do, which path to take. So she says nothing, just does what feels right, sliding Kuvira’s trousers down her legs, waiting impatiently for the other woman to step out of them, fold them over her jacket. She huffs a small laugh at the casual precision of Kuvira’s fussing—so predictable, so...endearing, it ignites a small, steady flame inside her chest, one that only blazes hotter when Kuvira accepts her outstretched hand, sinking down into the bed beside her, now in only in a black muscle tank and snug navy boxers. Kuvira is a delicious weight against her as she crowds in close, eyes drooping in exhaustion as she slides one leg between Korra’s, draping a heavy arm over her chest. When she speaks, her lips move against Korra’s neck, her breath warm. “S’this okay?”

“Very much okay.” Korra can’t help it, is barely aware of her fingers plucking gently at Kuvira’s hair, questing briefly to locate the dark pins and then dropping them onto the bedside table, undoing the thick braid and combing through the long, wavy strands. “Ha! Is this our first date?”

Kuvira laughs, shaking her head slowly, her lips a soft caress against Korra’s skin. “Is it? I hope not. I think we might have skipped a few steps, anyway.”

Ridiculously, Korra’s face warms with the memory of groping hands and hungry moans, desperate, drunken kisses pressed up against that bathroom wall. “You’re not wrong. Ah well.”

“Were you hoping to be wined and dined?” Kuvira asks, tilting her head back so she can look properly at Korra, who’s still playing in her hair. “Wear a little dress? Shall I pick you up at eight?”

“Can you imagine?” Korra grins, shifting more fully onto her back, pulling Kuvira closer. “Whenever we both need another agonizing press marathon, let’s pencil that in.” She could wear a little dress for Kuvira. The idea holds a disturbing amount of appeal.

Kuvira rolls her eyes in sympathy, chuckling. “Good point.” She’s about to say something else when her hand slowly slides up Korra’s thigh, visibly derailing her next thought entirely. She glances down, biting her lip as her fingertips brush against short curls. “Hmm. You’re naked under here, huh.” 

“Obviously.” Korra relishes the flare of heat in her eyes, but also recognizes the dark circles beneath them, not to mention the late hour. She ignores the persistent pulse of want between her legs, even as Kuvira’s hand continues moving, palming her inner thigh appreciatively. “Thought you’d never notice.” 

Kuvira groans under her breath, rising up to press a contrite kiss against the corner of Korra’s mouth. “I want to properly make amends,” she murmurs, nipping at Korra’s chin, pulling a small laugh from her. “But I’m—”

“Two seconds from passing out,” Korra teases, pulling her into another brief kiss. “You’ve been going all day. I’ll still be here in the morning. What time do you have to be a person?”

Kuvira makes a contemplative noise, eyes falling shut as her grip on Korra’s thigh becomes less determined, more lazily possessive. “Don't need that long. Ummm. Three-ish.”

“Perfect. I’m getting on the four o’clock train back to Republic City.” Korra shakes with silent laughter at the way Kuvira slithers shamelessly closer, face pressed into Korra’s neck. “Man, this hotel’s blankets are _awesome.”_

Kuvira doesn’t appreciate her joke, because she’s already asleep.

//

When Korra wakes, it’s still dark outside, the lamp's been switched off, and she’s alone. She relaxes when she hears the shower running, shifting onto her stomach and stretching, muscles straining. The knotted belt of her robe digs uncomfortably into her gut, and she tries to adjust it before giving up and taking it off entirely, elbowing it to the floor. The room is dark and cool, and the air feels heavenly on her naked skin; she hadn’t realized how warm she'd been under the thick material. She’s barely aware of nodding off again until the bed dips, and she stirs when a hand drifts gently up her back and then back down in an almost reverent caress.

She sighs, content, turning her head in Kuvira’s direction, enjoying the slow touch, her languid climb out of unconsciousness. Kuvira laughs softly, leaning in to brush Korra's hair away from her face, her voice low and teasing. “Oh sorry, did I wake you?”

Korra hums, enjoying the view of Kuvira’s bare skin and wet hair, gleaming in the moonlight. Her deep green eyes are luminous in the half-darkness, and Korra reaches out to smooth a hand over a firm shoulder, sweep it down an arm and tug. Kuvira follows immediately, sliding in to settle on top of Korra so that they’re almost perfectly aligned, from chest to waist and down to their feet, which tangle together as their lips meet in a slow kiss. It’s chaste at first, small breaths escaping as they shift against each other, finding the best spot for an elbow here, a knee there, heady with the sensation of this much skin pressed together, finally, _finally._

Kuvira is still warm and slightly damp from her shower and she smells like peppermint and wild honey and some other smoky, woody scent Korra can’t place, but the combination is unique and divine. She kisses like she fights, Korra is learning, all confidence and easy precision, self-assured of her own power without needing to expend it all at once. It’s almost a tease, or maybe Korra is just that needy for it, for the way she nips gently at Korra’s bottom lip, then simply drags her tongue along the inside of her top lip when allowed entry, smiling at Korra’s small gasp before deepening the kiss. The heat between their bodies is incredible; the heat further down near unbearable, and Korra plants her feet and cants her hips up to feel more of it, licking into Kuvira’s mouth with decidedly less restraint. She’s rewarded with a quiet moan, with Kuvira bracing herself on one arm as she tilts her head to adjust the angle and suck on Korra’s tongue, shifting so that she straddles one of Korra’s thighs before rolling her hips down. 

“Yeah,” Korra breathes, tightening her arms around Kuvira’s back, tangling the fingers of one hand in her hair as she tries to meet her next thrust, is a just beat off. Kuvira is slick and hot and soft as silk against her, and she sounds she’s making into Korra’s mouth might be her undoing. Korra deliberates quickly, then opens her legs wider, getting a firm grip on Kuvira’s thigh and dragging it up and over, turning to her side so they can slot their bodies together diagonally.

It only takes Kuvira a second to get with the program, and the next time she presses herself down, Korra angles her hips up, pulling twin cries from their mouths. This position is always a gamble; even with Asami it was never _quite_ right, something Korra always chalked up to their considerable height difference. But the grind is hot and perfect like this, and they fall into a steady rhythm with ease, slickness smearing between them with each small thrust.

They may not be able to kiss, but it’s worth it for the view, even half-shrouded in darkness as they are. The pale wash of moonlight illuminates Kuvira’s flushed cheeks, her neck, her chest, the gentle bounce of her breasts, nipples peaked. Korra licks her lips, wanting to reach out and touch, settles for lacing their fingers together as she sharpens the glide of her hips, panting as her arousal builds, heavy and urgent at her core.

“I’m—” Kuvira bites out, breathing harshly, fingers suddenly clenching in Korra’s, and Korra tightens her grip in turn, slowing the pace experimentally, swiveling her hips in to change the angle. Kuvira tosses her head back with a sharp moan. _“Ahhh,_ Korra, you tease.”

Korra expels a short, breathless laugh which bleeds into a high-pitched whine when Kuvira takes over, redoubling the speed, bearing against her with single-minded purpose. “Me?” She swallows hard, stomach tightening as she feels tingles begin their slow race up her spine. It’s so good, too good to do anything but give in, brace her other hand securely against the wooden headboard and feel it start to give beneath her fingers as she rides out her release, probably a little too loud, too blissed out to care. She can feel it when Kuvira snaps, short, hoarse cries climbing from her throat, back arching as she stiffens, pressed so firmly against Korra that Korra can’t help but drag it out, circling her hips slowly, glutting herself on the tiny shockwaves of pleasure. 

_“Korra,_ fuck.” Kuvira sounds wrecked, and hearing her name like that is making Korra feel a little reckless. She _really_ needs to kiss Kuvira right now, so she does just that: rising up to properly meld their bodies together again, pressing her into the mattress, licking hungrily into her open mouth. 

“Can I,” Korra eventually pulls away to breathe, feeling completely keyed up, like lightning has replaced the blood in her veins. Kuvira nods, her hair a damp, riotous dark splash against the white sheets. 

“Yeah,” she says quickly, spreading her thighs as Korra settles in between them, angling her head to allow Korra to suck bruising kisses in a line down her neck, across her collarbone, before continuing resolutely downward. And—

Kuvira exhales a brief, surprised laugh, _keeps_ laughing as Korra shakes her head again, cheeks batting against twin curves of satin-soft skin. Threads a hand into her hair, yanking her up, and Korra’s answering grin doesn’t even pretend to be sheepish. “Yeees?”

“That’s _not_ what I thought you meant.” Kuvira is trying to stop laughing, and failing miserably, and it’s such an unexpectedly _precious_ sight that Korra has to bite her lip, hard, as she lowers her head again. Kuvira laughs louder, but it’s a little breathless this time, helpless in the face of Korra’s dogged determination. _“Really?”_

“Mm-hmm, really.” Yeah, it’s not her most mature moment, but she’s living in her truth now. “No more talking.” She sucks a nipple into her mouth to ensure it. 

Kuvira is a fascinating contrast in extremes, her twitching hold in Korra’s hair betraying the challenging gleam in her eyes, the unaffected sprawl of her legs. Always so stubborn, this one. So intent on having her way. Korra waves a merry goodbye to her final inhibition as she clutches Kuvira closer, lavishes the kind of single-minded attention on her she deserves. Then she switches to the other nipple, slipping a hand down to cup Kuvira’s heat at the same time. 

Kuvira shudders, but she’s gotten herself back under control, no more laughing, watching Korra with quiet heat. Korra holds her gaze as she flicks her tongue a few times quickly, then slowly, reversing direction, testing, seeking response. Like this? Like that? Like _that._ Korra doesn’t bother hiding her triumphant hum of laughter when Kuvira’s spine bends with strangled moan, then doing it again so she keeps on forgetting whatever shame or pride is getting in the way here. Or maybe it’s just more of the game. Korra’s been accused of impatience before. 

Kuvira is very slippery and pulls Korra in like a magnet, so Korra behaves as bidden, sliding two fingers decisively in and curving them, a gambit that succeeds when Kuvira loses another bit of composure, vaulting upward with a wild gasp. Her calves are flexed tight, heels pressed into the mattress as she clings to Korra beautifully, tight and hot around her fingers. Korra just studies her, examining each reaction as she pushes deeper inside, then spreads her fingers wider, smiling at the varying pitches of sounds Kuvira hits when she's trying not to make sounds.

“Enjoying yourself?” Asami used to pretend to hate this question, and Korra just has to see. Just to check.

Kuvira flushes deep red as she labors to arranges her expression into a paltry approximation of a glare. “Oh, fuck _off_ —wh— _why_ are you laughing?”

If the past Avatars are watching—a thought experiment that at first made her want to scrub her skin off but she’s since grown wearily used to—they’re definitely shaking their heads right now. Because that was always the immediate response, down to the inflection. Korra isn’t sure what to do with this information, so she sets it aside for another time, returning to the task at hand. 

“Never mind,” she hums, scissoring her fingers slightly, very slightly, then pulls out, adds another, curving them in a little roughly, as she leans up to bite Kuvira’s ear. “But I really wanted to know, though.”

Kuvira’s hands have a punishing, vise-like grip on Korra’s hips, and she cannot wait to see what those bruises look like tomorrow. Her voice is tight, uncomprehending. “Know?”

“If you’re _enjoying_ yourself,” Korra trills with a sly grin, alternating strokes, long and short, slow and firm, dipping out every so often to fondle her plush lips, tease around the stiff clit. It’s a dance of impulse and instinct, no thinking, so it’s both everything and nothing like bending an element. Kuvira’s an altogether different kind of force. 

She hums sharply as Korra’s teeth close over a nipple. “You, you cannot...ever call _me_ cocky again.” She sounds like she has an attitude, as if Korra can’t see her desperate little shake, the way her legs stiffen and quiver, like they want to leave the bed, wrap around Korra’s waist. New goal.

“Takes one to know one.” As expected, Kuvira groans at this, and Korra can’t hold in her hapless laughter, breaking character, squashing her face into Kuvira’s breast. 

“You’re _so_ bad at this,” Kuvira snorts, but the way her hands skate up Korra’s back to grip at the back of her neck, hauling her needily up for a kiss, well, it lessens the offense. Because she’s right, Korra is, but she tries to accommodate her partners in bed, and this seemed like such an easy favor to give, this teasing push-pull, though she’s really not that fussed about approaching this thing head-on. “But yes, I am.” She clenches once, hard, around Korra’s fingers, her expression slipping back to unguarded _want_ so completely it makes Korra’s head spin. “Obviously. Keep going.”

“Yeah?...Okay. _”_ Korra had the upper hand somewhere, at some point, she thinks, but she’s totally fine giving it up. Kuvira’s really good at giving orders. Damn it. She lowers her head and keeps going.

//

At some point they agree not to check the time, because it really feels like the sun should have at least _started_ to come up by now, maybe, but to dwell on the strangeness of it is to tempt it. So they occupy themselves otherwise.

Kuvira’s quick, and has a habit of showing it off at random times, like when Korra is trying to pin her down and Kuvira decides to show her all the way up. Korra’s half-winded and flushed scarlet, wrists trapped above her head in an iron grip, and staring up at that damn beauty mark, at Kuvira’s soft lips curved into a smirk. 

“What,” Korra breathes, when Kuvira just looks down at her, like there’s a question forming in her mind. 

She’s quiet for a beat longer, then she takes a breath. “How did you know—” she starts, not letting up her hold at all, keeping Korra motionless. “When did you know you—wanted this?”

Korra’s grin is syrupy and gross, she knows it, and she can’t do anything about it, Kyoshi help her. “Those are two very different questions.”

Kuvira huffs, her smile twitching. “Pick one and answer it, then. Or both. Please.”

“She says please!” Korra cries, and Kuvira rolls her eyes, then tightens her hold on Korra’s wrists, shooting her a glare. An _I can’t tell if you’re avoiding the question or just being a little shit_ glare. Oh, she’ll learn. Korra likes to dip between the two.

“You were in some kind of dance rehearsal, that first time I visited Zaofu. You were literally emerging from a flower petal when I walked into the room. And, hmmmm, that fight we had in your giant robot." Korra thinks for moment, shakes her head. "Wait, no, reverse that.”

Kuvira’s hold slackens a bit as she stares unseeingly down at Korra for a moment, then frowns, tightening her grip again. “That’s not chronological.”

Korra shrugs grandly. “Look, I dunno know the secrets of the hea—th-uhhh, brain.” Panic. Panic. She’s a fool, a _fool_ to do this with Kuvira, who doesn’t miss a goddamn single thing, and the glint of her teeth as she _grins_ at Korra says it all.

How had Asami put it? _I_ _love_ _how you show me all your parts._ They’d laughed for a long time at the ribald simplicity of it, but Korra could feel how she meant it, the way her breath tended to quicken whenever Korra dropped her guard, especially in those early days, when she just accepted the gravitational pull between them, abandoning her shame. She probably shouldn’t be thinking of Asami right now, but the sentiment is just so apt, especially when Kuvira eases down to sweep her lips across Korra's, pausing in the corners—just one small, chaste kiss after another, continuing persistently when Korra laughs.

“Alright, come on. It’s your turn,” Korra says finally, twitching and flexing her wrists in mild complaint. Kuvira jumps a little and lets go, rising a bit so she can lean up to inspect them. Korra watches in amusement as Kuvira shoots her a tiny, contrite grimace, but the way her eyes darken at the same time scratches at something deep and primal in Korra’s brain. She can’t stop her next words, hopes she doesn’t fling them out too carelessly. “You little freak.”

“I have _no_ idea what you’re accusing me of.” The stare holds for several long seconds until Kuvira raises an eyebrow, smirks. “Anyway.”

Korra just nods, holding her face together so it doesn't spread into something too openly needy, hopes the bottoms of her feet aren’t actually singeing the sheets right now. “Sure. Anyway.” She _really_ wants to see the bruises that Kuvira totally didn’t mean to give her, but she senses she should pay attention.

“It was that day at the Northern Air Temple. You were going to fight Zaheer.” Kuvira pauses, coming down to lay on her back beside Korra, mirroring her position. Their sides press firmly together, a flash-line of heat, the backs of their palms idly meeting in the air and performing a slow, meandering dance. Korra gently blows away a few strands of Kuvira's hair where they landed on her face as their smallest fingers nudge, then lock together. It’s somehow the most intimate thing they’ve done so far, and Korra is mesmerized, caught between mild dread and deep fascination as Kuvira speaks again. “You looked so...free.”

Of all the words Korra was bracing for, that was the least likely. She twists her head sideways to stare at Kuvira, who keeps her eyes trained on the high, coffered ceiling, expression warmed by reminiscence. “What, really? I’d never felt less free in my life.”

“I _know.”_ Kuvira says it almost sharply, defensively, then laughs a bit, shrugging. _I love the way you show me all your parts._ “I know, I mean, that’s what made you so…” She eventually abandons the search for a descriptor, and Korra doesn’t press. “And yeah, that fight. We have that one in common.” She finally turns to meet Korra's gaze, eyes dancing across her face with ironic humor, but it’s not mocking, she’s telling the truth. Korra’s never been as adept at picking up on such earthbending subtleties as pulse and breath, preferring the more overt tells.

Sometimes, _really_ overt.

“I, like.” Korra sucks her lip between her teeth as she tips the confession back and forth in her mind, indecisive. Then she decides. “Never mind.” Nice, Korra. Smooth.

Kuvira makes a small show of resettling, turning onto her side and raising to prop herself up with one arm, staring at Korra in sarcastic awe. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but sometimes I can’t be _lieve_ you’re the Avatar.”

“Oh, I feel the same way. No, okay, I was going to say,” Korra can’t stop a small huff of laughter, “I basically threw myself at you that day, like, pussy first. It was a real bending milestone.”

Kuvira’s mouth works silently for a minute, and the smoldering heat in her eyes makes Korra very, very glad she said it after all. Even if it apparently wasn’t as memorable as she thought, which is a little embarrassing.

“I...don’t know if you remember that, or—”

“Uh, _yeah,_ I remember that.” Kuvira glances down at the pussy in question, turning again smoothly to lay astride Korra while slipping her hand downwards, massaging slowly with three roughened fingertips. She just watches Korra like that, almost appraisingly, and her touch is so light that Korra’s voice quivers embarrassingly when she moans, the sound threading into the air between them before she can reel it back. Kuvira smirks, leans in closer, her heavy gaze still focused on Korra. “I couldn’t forget an introduction like that.”

Korra’s yell seems to reverberate off the walls when Kuvira slides the tip of her middle finger in, slides it just as quickly back out to draw a tight circle around her clit, then presses on it directly. _“Fuck,_ Kuvira—!”

“Shh," Kuvira chuckles. "Do you want to get us kicked out of here too?” A quick, clever mouth closes around Korra's nipple, punching the next words out of her with defensive gusto.

"We weren't—kicked out."

"Still." Kuvira hums when Korra opens her legs wider, but keeps her touch maddeningly light, not bothering to hide her amusement at Korra's mounting frustration.

“I’ll kick everybody’s ass who tries.”

Kuvira snickers, coming up and burying her face between Korra’s shoulder and neck with a soft moan as she dips two fingers in this time: all short, swallow stabs, still refusing to go deeper, holding Korra taut and suspended, an archer's bow nocked, ready to loose. Then she withdraws her fingers, lightly brushing her clit before she gives Korra one thick thumb, just shoves it all the way _in_ until her fist connects solidly with Korra’s inner thigh. When Korra gasps and bears down, spilling everywhere and cursing like a Fire Navy deck hand, Kuvira laughs out loud, the brightest sound Korra’s ever heard her make.

//

The sun does rise, eventually, at the exact moment Kuvira’s hands clench against the walls at the head of the bed, crumbling the cool granite like it’s dry grass. Her belly is braced and tight as she sucks her lower lip into her mouth, rocking her hips slowly, carefully, meeting Korra’s stiff tongue with every pass. 

Korra can’t believe she gets to witness this sight, the misty play of purple and orange sliding across Kuvira’s sweat-glowed skin, the angular planes of her face, flushed and open as she holds Korra's gaze with effort. It’s _criminal_ that she can’t immortalize this somehow, a photograph? No, a painting. This deserves a painting. How can she make this happen? Kuvira’s eyes narrow slightly even as her mouth falls open wider in a harsh pant when Korra replaces her languid licks with kisses, dotting them all over, holding Kuvira up and open, her mouth and chin getting messier by the minute.

“What...is...that _look,”_ Kuvira huffs, discreetly bending away every trace of granite dust in her hands, lowering them to brace one against Korra’s sternum, the other sliding into her hair, fingers demanding, twisting. Gets a little bolder, undulates against Korra's mouth a little faster.

Korra's mumbled "nothing” is lost, unheard, unimportant, and she's ruined forever now, probably, now that she knows what Kuvira looks like and smells like and taste like when she’s sat on her face. It’s a tectonic kind of ruin, so much so that she can almost feel the earth shake and grumble beneath her.

“You’re an open book, Avatar.” Kuvira looks triumphant about it, hair loose and long around her shoulders, growing more illuminated by the minute, her eyes bright and captivating in the new day's creeping sun. When she throws her head back with another high, broken moan, thighs quivering, Korra decides to forego her response, decides to go ahead and make Kuvira come on her tongue again instead.

//

“—uvira?”

Korra grunts questioningly when the mass of warm flesh pressed against her front flinches and begins to pull away. Kuvira’s voice is fuzzy and gravelly when she speaks, legs shifting restlessly against Korra’s beneath the covers.

“Korra, what. Time's it.”

Her stomach is soft and warm beneath Korra’s palm, her hair smells incredible, and sleep feels _so_ good right now. She burrows in, clutching Kuvira closer. "I dunno," she mumbles into the back of her neck. "Shh."

“Someone knocked, I think—” she’s interrupted by another, louder knock.

“General Kuvira?”

The light coming through the windows is blinding, all of a sudden, and it’s awful. Korra blinks, frowning as Kuvira slides quickly out of bed, stooping to grab the robe Korra discarded last night and shrugging it on. She sighs with longing, the deeply bittersweet kind. The _oh right, we have to get out of bed very soon_ kind. “Seems early to me. Maybe that's breakfast,” Korra conjectures optimistically. Her stomach rumbles in agreement.

“I don’t think so.” Kuvira glances back at her, securing the belt, eyes dancing down Korra’s prone form, the way she gives a sleepy, rougish eyebrow waggle, flat on her back with the bedsheet draped carelessly across her hips. Then her eyes travel a bit higher, breath hitching when Korra raises her wrists to inspect the vaguely finger-shaped bruises there curiously. 

“Hmm, sorry.” Korra's never heard anyone sound less apologetic. "I guess that was for my shirt."

“You mauled me over a shirt?” Korra yawns, scrubbing her hands through her hair. 

_“General?”_

“Yes!” Kuvira shouts, cheeks flooding with color, and she whips her head away with difficulty to stride quickly out of the room and to the front door. Her voice is quieter, deliberately measured when she speaks again. “What is it?”

“The admirals. They are nearly assembled, for the meeting.”

“Good. I will be there in thirty minutes.”

“Yes, General.”

Korra groans under her breath, then quickly rearranges her features so she doesn’t look too much like a spoiled brat before Kuvira is back. Her face is an intense mix of irritated and impatient as she makes a beeline for the bed, crawling across the mattress and crowding up against Korra until she completely fills her vision, biting Korra's lips, hard, then kissing them. Korra can recognize the urgency, can recognize that it means this is coming to an end, right now. “Okay, so it might be late,” Korra concedes as they pull away.

Kuvira groans, knocking her head once against Korra's shoulder, and it sounds so much like Korra’s just did that she relaxes enough to give into the urge to press the pad of her left index finger against that damn beauty mark, wanting to claim it, sort of. “What are you doing?” Kuvira chuckles, eyes closing briefly, still sleepy, as Korra holds her finger against the slightly raised spot, then taps it. “I can’t, get away from me, I have to go. This already looks...not good.”

It's a feeble attempt, though Korra frowns a little at the _not good._ “You’re not a nun, you're allowed a sex life.”

Kuvira’s nose doesn’t pause in the slow circles it's making against Korra’s cheek, but Korra can still hear her unsure little inhale. 

“A sex life.” The words are flat, unimpressed.

“A… lo—a robust, um, social life. _Dating_ life.” Kuvira takes pity on her, plants a kiss on her that she feels down to her toenails. 

“You’re saying I get to look unprofessional and sloppy because I’m dating the Avatar?”

“I will literally make a decree saying as much when I get back home. Have it notarized with Future Industries seal.”

Kuvira cocks her head, interested. “Future Industries, huh?” 

The muted roar of a distant airship briefly interrupts the charged silence, and Korra shifts a bit, trying to read the sudden gleam in Kuvira’s eye without making it obvious she’s still not quite as literate as she would like to be. She gives Kuvira an uncertain smile, brushing her leg up against the metalbender's solid, lean calf, down and up and back down again. “Yes?” It was a joke. A bad one, apparently.

Kuvira just gives Korra a brief, calculating look that Korra can't decipher. “I'm getting up now.”

“Are you _mph—”_ Korra’s sudden spike of worry lessens by ninety-four percent when Kuvira snatches another consuming, spine-tingling kiss, and even despite the undeniable morning breath situation it manages to get Korra hot. Literally. 

“Shit!” Kuvira jerks and laughs, _squirming_ away from Korra in a move so unexpectedly out of character that Korra gapes, delighted. “That _tick—_ ” she stops talking and widens her eyes forbiddingly at Korra, cheeks pink, shaking her head slowly. Too late.

_“What_ was that?” Korra asks, getting a leg up and flipping them over easily, Kuvira bested and huffing irritated sighs beneath her. “I thought you said you were _tickled_ by these hot, hot hands. An accident, by the way.”

“Do _not_ put words in my mouth, especially those,” Kuvira snaps, then gasps out a laugh when Korra does a tiny test of it, just a flash of heated fingertips against the swell of Kuvira’s hips. Her gaze grows serious, deadly serious, then wobbles when Korra tries it again. “S—top that! I have to get ready. Right now.”

“So get ready,” Korra laughs, changing tracks to roll her hips down, kissing Kuvira deeply. Opening wide, licking in slow. She only pulls away when Kuvira swats and then grabs her ass in warning, humming in interest and pushing into the firm touch. “What," she mumbles against her mouth, grinning into another kiss. "I’m not stopping you.” 

Kuvira's low groan sounds worryingly closer to despair than sexual ecstasy than Korra would like, but it’s close enough. Especially when she meets Korra's next thrust with a shuddery little breath. “How are you such a pain in the ass alread— _st—!_ I, _I have to,”_ Kuvira stutters, and if _that’s_ the reaction Korra gets when her fingers drift innocently downwards and maybe a little further back, then she cannot be blamed for the extremely chill way she plants her face in Kuvira’s neck, muffling an actual yell of frustration. Kuvira laughs, that particular bright sound that Korra is quickly learning to savor. “Yeah, that makes two of us."

“Ughhhh." The line where Kuvira's hair meets the skin behind her ear is one of Korra's favorite places, and her filter is totally gone, so she just says it, albeit in a whisper. "I like you.” 

“Mm, I know. Me too.” Kuvira's tone attempts smugness at first, but it comes so quickly on the heels of Korra’s confession that the feigned insincerity dissipates almost immediately. Still, Kuvira looks like she bit into something a little too sweet by accident, and the way she scrunches her nose compels Korra to seal off what just transpired with a lingering kiss. The moment is, in all honesty, unbearably corny. But it’s theirs alone, so it doesn’t matter. Then Korra pulls away before Kuvira can, sighing and nodding when the other woman opens her mouth apologetically.

“I know.” She rolls sideways, letting Kuvira slip away, flopping back onto her stomach with a brief, self-indulgent pout before sitting up. Kuvira’s just turning away, her lips curved in a smile Korra senses she wasn’t supposed to see. The silence that descends as they move about the room, collecting their clothes isn’t tense or awkward, as Korra would have expected, just. Bracing. Delicate.

“I have to ask you something,” Kuvira begins suddenly, and Korra’s heart just about flies out of her ass. “Don’t judge me.”

“What is it?” Korra half-yells. Kuvira looks at her strangely, but presses on, glancing out of the room and then back at Korra, squinting self-consciously. 

“If I take a really fast shower, will you...dry my hair? I don’t want to show up with w—” she scowls at Korra’s gleeful grin, though clearly she’d been expecting it. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Of course I’ll dry your hair for you.”

Kuvira raises an eyebrow, watching Korra closely. “...Thank you.”

Her face is so _serious,_ still half-primed for a joke, for a dig at her—because she asked directly for something she wanted? Something seemingly frivolous, Korra supposes, maybe that’s the source of shame. Lucky for Kuvira, Korra wants to see all of that shit. There should never be any doubt otherwise. Especially if she needs or wants something that Korra can give.

When Korra opens her mouth to say as much, she hears herself say instead, “Well go shower, stinky.”

“Fuck off, you smell worse than I do.”

//

Their goodbyes are brief, almost coolly chaste, because they have to be. Korra is glad that they both know this, that they can be adults about this, though that final bruise from Kuvira pulses in time with Korra’s blood, the slight pain a secret burst of pleasure—or the memory of it, or maybe both—with every heartbeat. She darts quickly through the crowded platform to secure a single seater on the train, angling her body towards the window, hood low. Still unseen.

It’ll be two weeks until they can see each other again, because Korra promised Tenzin and the air acolytes regularly scheduled retreats into the spirit world, and those always last for at least seven days. And Kuvira is off to make visits to the many sandbending tribes the following morning, to speak with them about the shifting trade routes. It’s a long trip, followed by a series of delicate conversations, which all warrant a fair amount of negotiation, and one misstep could mean eventual economic collapse for the entire Republic. If there’s something Korra can appreciate, it’s the pressure of exhaustingly high stakes. 

So, two weeks it is. Extra fortuitous, as Varrick and Bolin’s new mover premieres around the same time, and it’ll be a good show of unity for Kuvira to attend such a high-profile Republic City event. It’s also an inconceivable amount of time to spend away from her, but it’s good, probably, because Korra should attempt to get her head on straight, or at least pretend to, for a little while. She recognizes the wild, uneven thump of her heart, the way she keeps having to press a fist against small bubbles of laughter as the train speeds along, and it’s stupid, but it feels so good, like when her airbending blends seamlessly with a passing wind current. She rides the feeling, tipping her head against the thick glass, the mid-afternoon sun glinting sharply off the passing fields of scrap metal, arranged as chaotically haphazard as Huan’s sculptures. 

Lost in thought, Korra pushes her hands into the pockets of her tunic, frowns when she encounters a square of white paper in one of them, which unfolds into a hastily written note, the letters a looping, backwards scrawl that she has to work to read:

_**Until next time, Avatar Hothands.** _

Korra crumples the note shut quickly, turning to direct her kooky grin out of the window, flooding with a prickly heat that makes her want to bend the nearby pitcher of water on her neighbor’s tray directly onto her head. God, what an absolute dork. Korra imagines her writing the note, the soft little smile she probably wore after successfully planting it, the way she’d known it was there that very last time she'd shoved Korra gently away with a wink, all buttoned up and proper again. 

_Avatar Hothands._ Korra snorts. She will never let her live this down, ever. Though she senses the inane nickname may eventually backfire on her. She falls asleep as the train shuffles through a shimmering bright countryside, dotted here and there with glowing spirits, drawing the excited gasps and questions of a nearby toddler, loud enough to rouse her awake again. She blinks slowly at the idyllic scene, eyes alighting on a particularly mesmerizing wisp of a spirit, like none she’s ever seen before, a riotous, spinning blur of color. 

It keeps easy pace with the train for several minutes, right beside Korra’s window: a kaleidoscopic whirling mass, hovering as if it’s waiting for something, some blessing or gift. And then it winks gradually out of sight, though the colors continue to bend and loop in Korra’s mind once it's gone, the pattern’s complexity unlocked by its very own allure, a quick study.

  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> everyone say thank you firelord zuko & ambassador sokka


End file.
